


Introduction to Psychological Break-Throughs

by BrittaUnfiltered



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 18:40:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1315204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrittaUnfiltered/pseuds/BrittaUnfiltered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Per usual, Britta is in Professor Duncan's office for another 'sessions' but this time they actually make progress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Introduction to Psychological Break-Throughs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AskIanDuncan](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=AskIanDuncan).



> Part of a Tumblr First Fic Meme. I'm Rusty at Fanfics so please bare with me.

Deep jagged cracks littered the water stained ceiling overhead. An odd fungi residue peeked it’s hideous head from the corner, giving the room a musty aroma. The room always felt damp and cold compared to the rest of the building but that wasn’t the reason she loathed this place.

Britta blinked, finally unearthing her glaze from the ruined roof above her. The blonde airhead’s mind had drifted from her previous train of thought only to be brought back twenty minutes later. Wondering if her company was still present, she shifted her body to stare at the disheveled man before her.

A smile crept upon her face when she realized Professor Ian Duncan had not abandoned her while she went on her psychological adventures. Of course, he was her therapist and her mentor professionally but he was also a close acquaintance.

“Ever since my extraterrestrial crisis I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders,” Britta said in a soft voice, hoping not to alarm the man who was intently scribbling with a pen.

Caught off guard by the sudden words, Duncan apologized and asked if she could repeat herself. It was unlike him to be distracted. He stopped paying attention to the patient laying on is blue floral couch due to her silence; he deduced that she had fallen asleep.

Ian had no harsh qualms with his star pupil using her free time to slumber in his office as he himself enjoyed an afternoon nap. He had scheduled an appointment with the mysterious bloke called Sandman but pushed his needs aside when Miss Perry appeared at his door.

“To be correct, Miss Perry,” He held back a humorous chuckle to avoid offending her,”I would be extremely concerned if you experienced an extraterrestrial crisis. Not that I would judge you for flying through the galaxy with little green men and partaking in anal experimentation.”

Oblivious to the joke, Britta tilted her head in bewilderment and narrowed her eyes at the rambling British man. Duncan, unfortunately could not contain his immature school boy laughter any longer.

Quickly regaining his professional demeanor, he addressed the joke Britta haven’t a clue about.

“Extraterrestrial in layman’s terms is an alien,” Ian explain before mimicking the infamous cinematic scene with his finger,”E.T. Phone home or something of the sort. I never cared much for aliens. When it comes to Scifi, I much rather watch Inspector Spacetime.”

Embarrassed that she had once again mispronounced a word, Britta adjusted herself on the sofa so her back was turned to the giddy psychologist. Duncan would never hold something so insignificant against her but that wouldn’t cease the humiliation she felt.

“Stupid Britta! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!,” she scolded herself mentally,”You Britta’d again.” 

To Britta, making mistakes was second nature. If there was a way to possibility screw something up, Britta did it subconsciously. It was her way of sabotaging herself so she’d stay the worthless idiot she saw herself as.

Britta had spent her whole life doing the bare minimum in school until she dropped out to spray paint anarchist mottos in third world countries. Before attending Greendale, she had actively given up on being a successful adult, citing that this was just how things were going to be.

She was Britta Perry.

The thought of being better than who she was now frightened her. If she went out of her way to get As and Bs would people expect more from her? And if they expected more, to what lengths would she go to just so she didn’t disappoint them and herself? How long would she have to put up with the charade before people caught on? Would she end up constantly living in fear like Annie?

“You’re not stupid,” The familiar accented voice informed her,”You should stop telling yourself that.”

Professor Duncan wasn’t a mind reader or a man of any supernatural talents but he knew how Britta operated. Everyone at Greendale knew that the most passionate woman, who would give you the shirt off her back then shout at you for staring at her chest like a ‘sexist pig’, hated herself.

Even before he was her college court assigned therapist, he had spent many hours pondering on why she was like this. His first conclusion was that she was trying to gain the respect of a disapproving father but since there was a lack of communication between Britta and Father Perry, Duncan threw that concept out. What was the point of doing good deeds if the man you’re trying to please doesn’t know?

His second theory was that Britta went out of her way to ensure everyone elses’ happiness because she thought someday she’d feel what they felt. By helping them, she was trying to help herself. Giving herself a purpose. Making herself needed. Making herself loved.

And that was the problem.

“Britta?” The trained therapist tried to make his voice sound as comforting as possible,”You’re not an idiot. And you shouldn’t feel like an idiot because you made a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes. It’s how people learn. It’s how most creatures on this bastardous planet learn; trail and error.”

“But I’m always screwing up,” Britta crossed her arms, shielding herself from any insults her damaged psyche might hurl at her,”People just don-”

“That’s the thing,” Duncan cut her off mid-sentence,”You’re still caring about how others perceive you.” He sighed, taking off his glasses to clean the lenses before continuing,”You do all these things for the benefit of others: delivering Shirley’s infant, raising money for the oil spill and even fixing that abnormal Abed during one of his neurological hissy fits. I wouldn’t touch that man after the Christmas fiasco but you got him to understand the reality of his situation. But people still treat you harshly. And I give you my condolences but you need to stop trying to please everyone. You, as a flawed by design human being, cannot live up to the unrealistic depictions someone else created. Why?”

Silence plagued the seconds Duncan waited. He wanted her to actually think about the question. He didn’t need her to answer but he also didn’t want her to push off his words.

“It’s because for some idiotic reason, people see themselves as nothing but pathetic victims while they expect others to be positive, do-no-wrong heroes. That’s why we make such a big deal out of someone breaking an insignificant rule or stealing a pen. Because that’s not what we wanted. We are disappointed. But we are flawed, stupid human beings.”

It took some time for Britta to grasp what Duncan was saying. He was elaborating on his existential crisis speech he gave her before during the drive home. But she was shocked that he was being so blunt with his explanation. Normally Professor Duncan would give hints and clues in hopes that Britta would come to her epiphany herself.

Britta sat up and turned her full attention to Duncan. Traces of self loathing lingered within her, making it difficult for her to hold eye contact with him. It was embarrassing for her to be vulnerable even with the guy who she confessed secrets to.

“So what do I do?” She asked. She wasn’t demanding or aggressively questioning him in hopes for a sarcastic remark. She was genuinely asking for his help.

“I don’t know,” He sighed once more,”What you do is your choice. I cannot make your decisions for you. That’s the curse of free will.”

“Then what’s the point of having you around?!” Britta shouted abruptly,”You’re the big psychologist with this stupid degree and you can’t even tell me how to fix myself?! You’re so useless!”

Having fallen prey to Britta’s outbursts in the past, he could only raise his eyebrow to her sudden rage. Engaging her in verbal fisty-cuffs would only result in her storming out of his office and crying in the girl’s bathroom. It wouldn’t benefit either of them.

“Britta….” Careful with his choice in words, he cautiously proceeded,”Please relax…Do those breathing exercises we practiced.”

The blood pounding in her head from the recent adrenaline rush echoed, almost drowning out Duncan’s calming words. She focused her eyes on him, glaring but to observe his tranquil breathing pattern. After several minutes of watching Ian softly inhale and exhale, she matched her breaths to him.

The technique worked because people have the ability to adapt to their surroundings which includes people. While the stressed patient is focused on mimicking the relaxed state of the therapist, their minds become distracted causing them to relax mentally and physically. Sadly, this method didn’t work on everyone. Duncan had learned the hard way.

When Duncan confirmed that Britta had relaxed to the best of her abilities, he started the discussion up again,”I can’t tell you what to do. No one can, Miss Perry.” If Duncan could recall, she detested when people ordered her around like a show dog, but now was not the time to question her. “If I told you want to do, you’d be living up to my expectations of you, not yours. Which would defeat the whole purpose of this session.”

Not that Duncan minded if Britta lived up to his  _expectations_  of her. As problematic as it was, Duncan had developed a crush on Britta in her freshman year. And sadly, five years later he was still chasing after his best friend, Winger’s former lover.

“So..so you’re saying other people don’t matter?” Britta’s eyes had softened from her menacing counterpart.

“Yes in a sense but also no,” The plaid clad professor began chewing on his pen. Wording his thoughts in a way Britta couldn’t misinterpret was always a difficult task. She thought in extremes whether it be heavenly god or sinfully horrid. Majority of the time, she just assumed the worse.

The laymen’s translation was on the tip of his tongue but he pronounced that a psychologist cop out was better. It wasn’t necessarily a cop out as it was a method to get the patient thinking instead of listening. But Duncan, per usual, was using this as a cop out.

“What do you think I mean,” Duncan adjusted himself, bringing the pen from his mouth. Out of his peripheral vision, he noted there were only ten minutes left in their session. Duncan enjoyed their biweekly get togethers but when he had to do legitimate work, he abhorred it.

Britta, in her mental anguish and self-loathing had wasted more than half of the time in silence, battling herself for the answer. She couldn’t decipher the meaning behind his therapeutic words. Part of her was yelling that Duncan was trying to inform her that she needed to place trust in herself, while another part whispered that Professor Ian Duncan was a liar just like everyone else.

Observing Britta Perry while she had an internal debate was Duncan’s bread and butter. He scribbled away at every silent tear that fell. He noted her catatonic state which progressed into all out physical abuse. She’d pull her hair or slap her face, muttering ‘stupid stupid stupid’ under her breath.

Seeing his patient attack herself, The British man intervened . It was highly against policy to lay one’s hands on another during an emotional conference such as this, but he couldn’t bare to see her damage her delicate face.

Grabbing her hands, he placed them behind her back and embraced her. He held her without romantic nature or lustful intent in timelessness. Britta remained motionless, letting her corrupt thoughts dissipate while Duncan tightened his hold on her.

And she cried.

Britta cried for every harsh insult or joke the study group made that chipped away at her fragile psyche. She cried for every time she slept with a man to feel some pleasure in her life but immediately regretted the next day. She cried her hardest when she remembered her father ignoring the sexual assault she endured on her eleventh birthday.

And he let her.

Duncan didn’t whisper comfort in her ears or wipe her tears away. He didn’t want this progress to cease. She needed to cry everything out if she ever wanted to heal properly.

It was the only way.

 

 


End file.
